


wish that i could be like the cool kids

by damnremus (malivolus)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 12:34:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3173878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malivolus/pseuds/damnremus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were a number of things which surprised Sirius about prison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wish that i could be like the cool kids

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Echosmith's "Cool Kids."

There were a number of things which surprised Sirius about prison.

For one, the whole one phone call thing was bollocks considering his one phone call went straight to voicemail – _Dammit, Prongs._ – and he wasn’t allowed another. In truth, he’d only consumed one eighth of a call, but the guard man was having none of Sirius’s attempts at reason.

Everything was cold. The walls, the floor, the bars, the weird folding down bench suspended by silver chains from the wall, everything sent an unpleasant shiver along Sirius’s nerves. Then again, this may have been a concerted effort on the part of the prison.

There was a bloke leaning against the cinder blocks and staring out at the rain steadily pissing from the sky. He was cute. The sort of cute Sirius wouldn’t have reckoned could find their way into this fine establishment, but Sirius was in no place to complain while he waited for James to check his damn phone.

In between rows with the guard over his phone call, Sirius took to staring at the man with a sort of blatant interest he had shaken off in college when a bird once informed him it was, quote, “creepy.” Nothing creepy about admiring the impressive scar that stretched from just under the bloke’s left eye, across the bridge of his nose, and coming to a stop a few millimeters above the sweet curve of his lip. Pretty badass if he did say so himself. Sirius idly wondered whether one could feel it when they pressed their lips to his.

The bloke looked like he was coming from a library or something, pressed pants with loafers and a button up under a jumper. There was a faint Christmas pattern pressed into the knit. The hems of his pants dripped onto the cement floor with steady finality and Sirius found himself speaking before he’d really registered wanting to.

“Come here often?”

“I beg pardon?”

The bloke turned from his window, brows furrowed together as if he had heard Sirius incorrectly.

“Do you come here often?” Sirius asked again as he took a seat on the bench and immediately shifted uncomfortably.

“I—” The bloke paused, shook his head, and returned to looking out window. “No.”

“Didn’t really think so considering, y’know, the gettup, but my mother was a right bitch once upon a time and I swore I wouldn’t judge people after that.”

“That’s nice.”

“So, listen, did they cut off your phone call too because I’ve been trying to make the kind young man over there at the guard station understand, but he’s a bit bullheadish, I think, and won’t give me a second chance because, you see, my friend, well, he just got hitched and they’ve been at it like rabbits and sometimes he doesn’t pick up my calls the first time, but by the second he usually knows I’ve fucked up somewhere and need a bit of assistance, but, see, they wouldn’t give th—”

“You sure are excitable for a rebel without a cause.”

The bloke was looking at him with a sort of amused expression and Sirius felt all of the breath leave his body at once. He had these eyes and they were framed with the biggest fucking eyelashes Sirius’d ever seen on anyone, which is quite a statement considering that one New Year’s when he and Jamsie found those model girls in the back of their favorite club. It was like looking directly at the sun in that once you did, every fiber in you wanted to keep looking.

“I got a cause.”

“Do you now?”

He was laughing at him. This bloke was laughing at Sirius Black as he sat in a jail cell with his favorite motorcycle jacket framing his figure and kohl lining his waterline. He even did the kohl bit himself. Sirius Black looked like sex tonight and this fucking bloke was laughing at him.

“Her name is Minerva.”

“Oh?”

“And she’s sitting in impound.”

“How unfortunate.”

“A modern tragedy, I assure you.”

The bloke was still laughing at him and it made something stir in Sirius’s stomach and it moved like water inside him when he stood and moved closer to the man.

“Sirius.” He presented his hand with the sort of dignified solidity his mother would have been proud of had she been there. Well, perhaps not proud considering his exact location, but certainly impressed.

“Remus Lupin.” The bloke took Sirius’s hand and, oh. Oh. They were strong and calloused and Sirius had a sudden vision of those hands holding his wrists down into the mattress as he moaned out _Remus._

Sirius was blushing when their palm fell apart and Remus smiled at him and _god._

“Do you wanna get out of here?” The words came tumbling out of Sirius unbidden, as most words did, and he could only hope that Remus had previously failed to notice the natural pitch of his voice.

“Well, yes. I think that is the general sentiment you’re supposed to carry when you’re waiting to post bail.”

“Right. Right. That was a dumb thing to say and I usually do shit like that it’s just I was – “

“Are drinks okay? I know a place.” Remus was smiling and it made his scar stretch a bit which made Sirius want to do vaguely indecent things to it and every other piece of perfectly tan surrounding skin.

“Yeah, drinks sound good.”

It’s only when the guard starts yelling about some kid named Prongs making a ruckus at the doors that Sirius realizes how close they’d been standing.

Does posting bail in exchange for a date count as prostitution?


End file.
